To be honest, I’m so rarely away from my kids that when I am, I crave the quiet, and rarely miss them nor worry about them very much. But I did have pangs one evening when we Skyped with them and I couldn’t reach out and hug them. There had been one time when Dean got home from a trip and Hazel wouldn’t look him in the eye for a few minutes, so we wondered if that would happen. She was napping when we got home, but woke up shortly after, and when my Dad brought her downstairs, she just laughed and laughed.
The other day we found about seven tiny splinters in Hazel’s hand (a consequence of our back deck needing to be replaced or refinished) so Dean got some tweezers and we braced ourselves for the battle: I would hold her down, and Dean would tweeze. To our amazement, Hazel barely needed restraining. She held very still and just kept repeating “Get it out!”
This evening Dean asked Hazel, “How old are you?”
“And what’s your name?”
“My name is two!”